A Weblog by One Humble Bookman on Topics of Interest to Discerning Readers, Including (Though Not Limited To) Science Fiction, Books, Random Thoughts, Fanciful Family Anecdotes, Publishing, Science Fiction, The Mating Habits of Extinct Waterfowl, The Secret Arts of Marketing, Other Books, Various Attempts at Humor, The Wonders of New Jersey, the Tedious Minutiae of a Boring Life, Science Fiction, No Accounting (For Taste), And Other Weighty Matters.

Who Is This Hornswoggler?

Andrew Wheeler has had a varied career in publishing and related fields. He spent 16 years as a bookclub editor (mostly for the Science Fiction Book Club), and then moved into marketing. He marketed books and related products to accountants for Wiley for eight years, and now works for Thomson Reuters on large online legal products. He was a judge for the 2005 World Fantasy Awards and the 2008 Eisner Awards. He also reviewed a book a day for a year twice. He lives with The Wife and two mostly tame sons (Thing One, born 1998; and Thing Two, born 2000) at an unspecified location in suburban New Jersey. He has been known to drive a minivan, and nearly all of his writings are best read in a tone of bemused sarcasm. Antick Musings’s manifesto is here. All opinions expressed here are entirely and purely those of Andrew Wheeler, and no one else.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

So I had a 4-7 meeting today, complete with dinner -- there are some issues you just don't have the time to hash out during the working day, and it actually was a great meeting that accomplished what it needed to.

Unfortunately, coming out of it, I looked at the train schedule that isn't effective until Sunday, and tried to catch the 7:17 train. Which, since it wasn't Sunday yet, was actually a 7:00 train today, and had already left.

Now, the next train was at 8:56.

A normal man would have slipped into the bar at the Hoboken terminal to while away a few hours.

A workaholic man would have gone back to the office to get things done.

A smart man would have taken the PATH into New York, and caught an express bus out from there.

But this man got on a train at 7:32 that went part of the way, caught a transfer, and ended up, two stops shy of my car, at about 8:30. On a platform without any real shelter. In the pouring rain. Until 9:39, when that next train finally arrived.

Thus there will be no blogging tonight. Tomorrow, regular service will resume, God willing and the creek don't rise.

(And that last is not a metaphor; we're under a flood watch and may well be evacuated in the next 24 hours. Ah, the wonders of living in riverine country!)